Parity
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Episode six missing scene. Grace knows she will have to watch over Roland, she wants to.
1. Chapter 1

**Missing scene from episode six. Note the rating. I will continue with my other story but this had to be written. **

She was always going to keep a lookout that night. It would have been against her nature not to, against every trained instinct. It was her job to watch, and to care.

She only meant to stand and listen. Treading carefully, making sure her feet were quiet on the wooden walkway, she tried not to step loud enough for her footsteps to be heard, straining her ears to hear any sound from inside his cabin.

And then when she did, it turned her stomach. She did not need to strain her ears to hear the sudden, agonised howl that came from within. It sent shivers up her spine.

For a moment, she froze, her hand tightening a little, gripping the window sill for support. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to quell the nausea the sound of his pain caused her. She could hardly breathe.

And then she made a snap decision. She opened her eyes and she ran, round the corner of the cabin and to the door. She did not knock; she assumed he had locked himself in there, and more than pressing the latch, she threw the weight of her shoulder against the door. It had not been locked, and the force of her weight hitting it made it fly open with a considerable crash. Unperturbed, she stood in the doorway for little more than a second before moving into the room and closing it sharply behind her.

Roland was sitting in a chair, his head evidently only raised out of his hands out of shock, his face tear-stained, and he was staring at her. She approached him swiftly, she was here, she had to finish what she had started, she was not put off by his confused gaze. She stood before him, gently placed both of her hands on his face, made him look at her eyes, made him see the love she had for him pouring out, making him see the way that his hurt hurt her. Her thumb brushed the line of his cheeks, mingling with his tears. The sight was too much. She felt tears welling in her own eyes as she broke him again. His arms went around her waist and he buried his face against her stomach, letting out another muffled howl. She cradled his head in her arms, and bowed her head a little, kissing his brow. He sobbed even harder against her, tears staining her dress.

It was almost a shock when the gentle shakes of tears faded into something even softer. She bit back a gasp as she realised; he was kissing her through the fabric of her uniform.

He looked up at her in shock, looking as if he had surprised himself with his actions, and expected her to reprimand him.

"It's alright," she told him as levelly as she could, though her heart was hammering in her chest, "It's alright, Roland. I understand. I've lost a child too."

His face fell, his hands fell away from her in shock, almost as if he was disgusted with himself for what he had done.

"It was different," she continued calmly, "It was a long time ago. Stillborn. I never held her."

She reached out taking his hand in both of hers, caressing the back of it with her thumbs.

"But I understand," she said softly, "It's alright. Take what you want from me," she bade him.

He blinked up at her in surprise. He did not move. He was waiting for her permission again.

"I said, take what you want from me," she told him gently, "Whatever you need."

There was the briefest pause.

And then he snatched his hand away, standing, picking her up and lifting her clean off her feet. She gasped in surprise, but the sound was muffled by his shoulder. Her arms were around his neck and she clung on as he pushed her towards the nearest surface. It so happened that it was his desk.

Hastily, he pushed the papers off its surface, sending them flying, lying her across it. His lips latched onto hers as he bore down over her, and she wriggled to get closer to him, holding on to his neck. His jacket was discarded on the floor and he pulled her headdress off. Their top buttons were haphazardly undone in the attempt to touch as much skin as possible. He kissed her furiously, pushing his tongue inside her mouth, making her moan and shake. His mouth burned down over her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, roughly, he forced her corset downwards and her breasts came free and he kissed them, almost biting at her exposed skin.

He pushed her skirt up around her waist and she heard a tear, that she realised a moment later was her underwear coming away. He wanted her badly, she realised and spread her legs to accommodate him. He pushed inside her, groaning against her mouth, lifting her knee to hook around his waist as he did so, pressing her back down against the table. She arched her hips to bring herself as close to him as she could, biting her lips to stop herself from screaming with pleasure as he pushed hard into her at just the right angle.

He cried as he came too and collapsed on top of her. He sobbed weakly, the whole of his weight laid on top of hers. She could do nothing but cradle his head in arms as he wept, and wait for him to recover.

"Grace," he whispered hoarsely at last, raising his head a little, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"If that's what you want," she replied.

He nodded.

"I need... someone," he managed.

"I understand," she forced herself to say, trying to make her voice stay level.

She stood up as he did, shaking her head slightly, making her hair fall down completely. Seeing no need for modesty, she undid the remaining buttons of her dress and allowed it to fall away from her body. She willed her hands not to shake, and not to cry. This is what she had offered, after all. She had told him to take what he needed, he could not be blamed when he did what she had bidden him to. With as much composure as could, barely covered by her corset and torn undergarments, she made her way after him to his bedroom, where he sat on the bed. He turned, saw her, and let out a shallow breath.

She divested herself of her useless garments, she was as good as naked anyway, and got into the bed, under the warm covers, waiting for him to take off his trousers and tie and join her. The bed was narrow, she faced away from him. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, his head buried in the back of her neck, against her hair.

When she woke, she felt his hand on her stomach, with a sharp, tender shock. She rolled a little in his direction, and found he was awake. He had been lying in the morning half-light, watching the golden ebb and flow of her hair.

"When did you lose her?" he asked her softly. His voice was hoarse, she had felt him trembling against her neck in the middle of the night.

"A long time ago," she told him, "I had a lover in India."

He was silent.

"Does that shock you?" she asked.

He smiled tiredly.

"Nothing about you would shock me," he told her softly. "Do you still think about her?"

"All of the time," she replied quietly.

Her eyes bowed, but his eyes stayed fixed on her face.

"It's you I need, Grace Carter," he whispered to her.

She looked back at him, met his eye, her breath changing sharply. That was all she wanted to hear, her hand holding his head, she pressed her lips against his, kissing him soundly. His arms went to roll over her, but she sat up before he could, her hands resting gently on his shoulders, her legs straddling his waist.

Their eyes met, and hers sparked a little at the look of surprise on his face. She pulled of his shirt and undershirt, allowing him a moment to rid himself of his undershorts. She was naked with him, and allowed him to fondle her breasts gently, pulling his lips up to kiss him as she sank down on to him. He groaned against her mouth, and she steadied herself on his shoulder.

"It's alright," she told him softly, as she rocked against him, "It's alright, Roland."

His eyes were closed and he held on to her, pressing their bodies together as she rode him.

"You are safe, my love," she told him quietly as he began to shudder beneath him, "I love you."

"Oh, God, Grace, I love you too!" He cried against her neck.

She held on to him tightly as he came, allowing his erratic thrusts to send her over the edge too. They collapsed gently together and she rolled them onto their sides, staying wrapped around him so that they could both fit in the narrow bed. And they lay there, paired, holing each other, their thumbs gently caressing one another's spines.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I wrote more, but I'm not sure what I think about it, I'd love a review to let me know what you do! **

The next night she lay beside him in his bed. They had made love again, but she knew he could not fall asleep and she was not going to until he did, she did not want him left alone in his insomnia. She shifted her little finger the slightest touch against the side of his thigh, to let him know that she was there, she was awake too. He let out a long sigh, turning towards her. He lay on his side making more space and she shifted closer to him. The arm he rested on stretched around her head to stroke her hair with his thumb, his other arm embracing her middle, his fingers caressing the soft flesh of her stomach. His embrace was gentle, and so loving and in spite of her sadness the sensations it gave her made her admit a tiny sigh of contentment.

He was watching her face.

"I've been wondering," he said at last, "About you and what,-... what we did. What we have been doing. If there were consequences-..."

"There won't be," she assured him.

He gave a satisfied hum of assent.

"If someone were to notice that you were missing from your bed-..."

"I have my quarters alone, as you know," she reminded him, "If you don't want me here, Roland, just say."

"Don't you dare go, Grace," he told her sharply.

There was a silence.

"I'm sorry," he sighed after a moment, his hand resting lovingly over her hair once again.

"That's not what you're thinking about," she told him, raising her hand to touch his face, "What are you thinking, Roland?"

He did not reply.

"Are you thinking about your wife?"

His face turned to her in surprise.

"One of us had to mention her," she told him.

"I wasn't," he replied, "Hetty and I-... We haven't-... I haven't seen her for years. We speak mainly about practical matters. We are civil. But I wasn't thinking about my wife."

"I don't know what happened," she said finally, "I won't leave you," she assured him, "I promise you."

He looked at her, kissed her lips, brushed away the lock of hair that had fallen into her face.

"You have very blue eyes," he whispered to her.

"I know," she replied, smiling.

"I love you," he told her, "I meant it."

"I know," she said again, smiling, again, "And I love you."

"I don't deserve to be loved by you, Grace."

It hit her like a blow to the chest. She sat up abruptly.

"Roland, don't."

She covered her hands with her face. She felt like this had happened before, it had happened before, a different man had uttered almost the same thing, word for word. And this time she was not going to listen.

"I know I told you to take what you needed," she told him, turning to him fiercely where she sat, "But you can't take my body and not my love, you can't try to love me and not let me love you in return, you can't ask for love in everything but those actual direct words and then turn it away. Do you _want _me to love you?" she demanded of him, "Do you?"

She realised that tears were running down her face. She quickly raised her hands to wipe them away, but it was too late. He was staring at her in surprise, tears welling in his own eyes.

"Yes," he answered, "Yes, I do."

There was a lump in her throat, all she could manage was a muffled "Good" as she lay back down, burying her face in his chest.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much for your reviews, you have been very kind. **

They barely spoke the next day, except when it was directly related to work. She was shy of him, almost, taken aback, even, by her reaction to what he had said. There were no words, no feasible reason, for why it had upset her as much as it had done. She did not want to talk about it.

But still, she went back that night. She knew that to abandon him now, when she had kept by his side for two nights, might break him, and that after two nights with him beside her, she was not particularly inclined to spend the night alone either.

She entered his office. He was standing behind his desk. Raising his head, he saw that it was her, smiled, in relief almost, and went to meet her. He took her hand in both of his, raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers, humbly, reverently, closing his eyes. She watched him carefully.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he told her.

"It doesn't matter," she replied straight away, "You didn't, you ju-..."

"And I'm sorry," he continued, "If I upset you again now. But there are things that have to be said."

She swallowed hard, her hand tightening a little in his.

"Go on, then," she told him, "What are they?"

He took a breath.

"There are things I can't give you," he told her.

"Like what?" she asked.

"Children, for one," he told her.

"I think we both know it's the other way around," she told him quietly.

"Nevertheless," he cut across her, "There are things you could have with someone else that I can't offer you. You could take in a child, for instance. You could get married. I'm sorry, Grace," he told her, "What I can do depends on what Hetty wants."

She managed, somehow, to make her voice work.

"Are you saying I can't see you again after the war?" she asked him.

"No," he promised her, "Never. I couldn't live with that, Grace-... I'm saying I will only be able to marry you if my wife will agree to a divorce. You understand that I have to do right by her?"

"Of course I do," she replied.

There was a pause.

"Roland, did I ever say I needed you to marry me?"

"No," he replied slowly.

Her hand touched his arm gently.

"It is is enough to be with you," she told him quietly, "If you will let me."

"Oh, Grace. How could I refuse?" he asked her.

He stepped forward, taking her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, holding on to him tightly. She smiled softly.

"We're talking about the end of the war," she said sadly, "We've been together for two nights."

"Do you have any idea what these nights have meant?" he asked her, leaning back a little, nudging her chin up to look at her, "I love you, Grace, I adore you. You have been the light in the dark. You are."

She looked at him. They did not need to kiss, the look was enough. Her hand slipped into his.

"Come on," she told him, pulling him through the door towards his bedroom.

"I love you," she told him firmly as she turned back to him to remove his jacket, almost daring him to argue with her.

His face was one of content acquiescence, and wry amusement at her certainty. He leant in and kissed her.

"I love you too," he told her, "I love you so much."

They kissed again, sitting down on the bed.

"I can hardly believe you're real," he whispered as he nuzzled her ear, carefully opening the front of her dress, "And here with me, like this," he kissed her lips breathlessly, "How can you be?"

"Because I love you," she told him again, as firmly as before, "And I wish it hadn't taken something terrible happening to make me brave enough to tell you."

She brushed her thumb sadly across his cheek, watching his face. She did not want to become his numbness. She wanted him to solve his pain, not push it away. It was cruel, but it was the only way. She knew, and he knew that she did, and trusted her to guide him through it. He trusted her blindly.

They removed one another's clothes, kissing, falling back together on his bed. She pushed one leg over his, she trailed her hand down his chest. His hand buried in her hair, kissing her.

"You're safe, Roland," she whispered, "I'm here."

**end.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I've been prompted to write a follow-on from this story, hence posting it all as the same story, where Grace has made a very particular miscalculation. **

**Part 2**

"Roland," she told him quietly, her eyes fixed away from him, watching the corner of the room, to which the light from the oil lamp at their bedside had not quite spread, "We were wrong about something." 

"What?" he asked.

He was behind her, she sat between his legs in her nightdress as he plaited her hair for her. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement; even as a child, she had never had a great deal of patience for self-adornment of any kind and he liked the sight and the feeling of her long hair under his fingers.

He was so totally oblivious- what else could he have been- that it almost pained her to shatter his innocence.

"When we thought that there couldn't be a child," she told him.

She felt his fingers still gently against her back. She half-turned, craning her neck to look at him, almost relieved when it was only shock she found in his face.

"There can," she supplied, needlessly, "There will."

Still he said nothing.

"Roland," she told him, turning fully, taking his motionless hand in hers, "I'm so sorry. I thought I couldn't I-..."

"It isn't your fault," he told her swiftly, "It's no more your fault than it is mine."

"How far are you?" he asked, at last, "Do you have anyway of knowing when-..."

"I'm a little way, I think," she told him, "And it hasn't been long since we first-..." she looked at him straight in the eye, "It must have happened on almost the first time."

His eyes flashed in pain and regret, and she latched onto the thought he must have had; a child conceived upon the death of its sibling. But then she saw a look closer to remorse in his eyes.

"Oh, Grace," he murmured, "Grace-..."

"Don't apologise to me," she told him almost sternly.

He bowed his head nonetheless.

"I should have made sure this didn't happen to you, that you didn't have to-... again," his voice choked a little, and he fell silent.

"Roland," she asked him softly, after a moment, her hand softly covering his, "What are you thinking?"

"I wish you could have had this with the man you'd chosen," he told her softly.

"What good would that have done?" she asked him harshly, "He's dead. And then I chose you, Roland. There are plenty of broken men around here I could have given myself to," he hand tightened over his, she was almost used to it now, the need to reaffirm, once in a while, without using the words directly, that she loved him, "I chose you."

He looked up at her.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he told her, "You must find me so selfish." There was a pause, "What do you want me to do?"

She gave a small breath of relief. She would much rather concern herself with the practicalities, rather than things that could not be altered.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully, "I'm not expecting you to provide for me or the child. I'm not expecting anything to be any different to what we've discussed before."

"What if I want to provide for you?" he asked, "I know you don't expect me to, and it pains me to say that I'm sure you wouldn't be the only unfortunate woman in similar positions to go uncared for, but it's you and-... how am I supposed to do anything else?"

She frowned a touch.

"It seems so hard to your wife," she replied honestly, "To lose a son and a husband."

"She lost me long ago," he replied, "We both know it's true."

He took hold of her hand properly, slipping their fingers together and squeezing it firmly. She squeezed back, half-smiling.

"Can I?" he asked, reaching his hand out to touch her stomach.

"Of course," she replied.

He touched her gently, his hand warm through her nightdress. She smiled at his ill-disguised confusion.

"You can't feel anything yet," she reassured him, "I'd be more worried if you could."

"What will you do when you begin to show?" he asked her.

"I have no idea," she replied truthfully.

There was a silence.

"They will send me home," she pointed out, and then, smiling a little bitterly, "It will fall to your lot to send me home. It would happen to any other woman, why should I be made exceptions for?"

"Grace," he told her, "Don't say that. How am I supposed to live without you, let alone order you away?"

She blinked sadly and said nothing for a moment.

"There is a chance I won't carry to term," she told him, "It has proved a challenge for me in the past."

He breathed harshly, looking away from her. She watched his face carefully, trying to discern what he was thinking. But before she could ask him his hands were on her and he pulled her firmly towards him, embracing her tightly.

"Do you have any idea how painful that thought is to me?" he asked her, "That I would put you through that again? Do you know what it means to me to know that you are carrying a piece of me, a piece of us, inside you?"

"Yes," she breathed quietly against his skin, "I think I do."

He pressed his hand carefully between their bodies, covering her stomach again.

"Do you have any idea how much I want to have a child with you, Grace?" he asked her, kissing her softly, trailing kisses down her jaw, burying his face in the crook of her neck, "How I've loved you."

Her hand held the back of his head gently, her other arm brushing gently up and down his back. She kissed his face tenderly.

"Roland," she whispered, "I'm scared."

He looked up, taking in her face, caressing her cheeks with both of his hands.

"Why do love and fear always come hand in hand?" she asked him quietly.

He sighed heavily; he had no answer. He simply met her sad look, her kiss.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	5. Chapter 5

He pulled his lips away from hers.

"What is it that frightens you, Grace?"

Her head tilted to look at him.

"Everything," she replied.

"Me?" he asked.

"No. Not you."

"Good," he replied quietly tracing his fingertips over the lines of her face, "I'm not going to leave you, Grace, whatever happens. You do believe that, don't you?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh, my love," she heard him murmur, "What can I do to make it better?"

"Kiss me," she whispered, "Kiss me, Roland."

His lips met hers softly, and she teased his mouth open with her tongue. They kissed passionately, his arms coming around her to hold her.

"We can be a family," he told her quietly, "When all of this is over. I want to marry you, Grace."

Her mouth gaped a little in surprise, she could not believe for a moment what he was saying.

"I know you're thinking about all of the complications," he told her softly, "All of the things that will have to be done before then. Don't think about them. I will see to them. Will you marry me, Grace Carter?"

"Yes," she answered after a moment, thinking of no objection that wasn't rooted solely in the practical mess of the whole thing, "Yes, I will."

He bowed his head, kissing both of her hands. She smiled incredulously at him, pressing her lips into his shoulder as he embraced her tightly.

"I will marry you," he whispered gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as they broke apart, "And we will be a family, one day."

She let out a heavy sigh.

"That's what frightens me," she told him, "What until then?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "You needn't worry about money, or a place to stay I can give you those. I could see about finding you somewhere in the town near here, if you wanted that."

"Could you?" she asked, "And then I could be near you."

"Of course," he answered quietly, kissing her briefly, "But until I can divorce my wife, you'll be-..."

"An unmarried mother," she supplied. She tried to block out Margaret's whisper of "pariah".

"Yes," he agreed ruefully, casting his eyes down, "I would understand, of course, if you-..."

"If I what?" she asked him.

"Found someone else," he replied, "To take care of you. Sooner."

"Roland," she was hard-pressed to stop herself screaming, she took hold of his face, half-tempted to shake him, "When will you realise? I don't want anyone else. I will wait for you. I will be poor, and an outcast for you, because you have given me love, and I love you in return. Do you understand me?" she demanded.

"Yes," he murmured.

"What?" she asked him, taking him by surprise, kissing him fiercely, "I didn't hear you."

"Yes," he told her more confidently, his breath harsh and short.

Their eyes met. She kissed him again, as fiercely as before, pushing him back onto the bed, straddling his legs over his stomach. He looked up at her in surprise.

"Oh come on," she murmured, "We've already done the damage."

His face relaxed into a half-regretful smile, which faded into a look of contentment as she scooped her nightdress over her head and onto the floor. She leant forwards, undoing his pyjama buttons and he sat up so that she could push his shirt off. Her wetness brushed against his lap as his arms wrapped around her bare body and they kissed. His intense reverence at making love to her showed no sign of waning. He kissed her collarbone and her chest tenderly, cupping her breasts gently in his hands. Her hips pressed insistently into his.

"Oh, my love," he whispered, "Grace."

His thumb trailed down over her stomach, lingering a little before the curve of her hip, then dipping between her legs. She held onto his shoulders, her fingers digging in tightly.

"Roland," she murmured, "Yes."

"That's it, Grace," he breathed as his fingers slipped inside her, making her rock against him.

She buried her face in his chest to muffle the incoherent sound she made as she came. He lay her gently down on beside him, shuffling to give her more room, stroking her arm and her back as she shook. He kissed her forehead and nuzzled against her temple.

Her eyes flickered back open. She smiled at him, her arms reaching for his. He cradled her, helped her sit up, kissed her, allowed her to divest him of his pyjama trousers and made love.

When they lay back down, he whispered into her hair, loosened from the braid he had tied, "I love you, Grace. Don't be scared. I will make sure everything is alright."

**Please review if you have the time.**


	6. Chapter 6

In the evening they managed to slip down onto the sand together. There was no one around, but that was never true for long especially out of hours. They wanted a chance to talk without being hear by anyone else, but away from the confines of his office and his bed- almost to fool themselves that they were being open about what was happening. They would have to be quick about it, the dark and the tide were drawing in. He extended his hand to help her; her footing was fine, but she took it anyway, with a small smile.

He looked back at her, her hand still in his, the last light of the sun, setting over the sea, colouring the edge of her hair, making her skin bright. Her nurse's cape and headdress fluttered in the wind.

"You look beautiful," he told her.

Her smile widened a touch and her fingers squeezed against his.

"We need to talk," she reminded him quietly.

"Yes," he agreed.

"We don't have long left," she told him, "It's a matter of weeks before it will be noticeable."

"I've made some enquiries about a place in town," he told her, "A little flat above a shop. I know it's not much but-..."

"It's enough," she whispered harshly, trying to stop tears flooding into her eyes, "It's enough to be near you."

He raised his hand to her lips, kissed her knuckled, still holding tightly on to her.

"I don't know how I'm going to do it," she murmured quietly, holding onto air in her throat, trying to stop her voice from shaking, "To not see you every day, to not sleep beside you-... I don't know how I ever did it."

He smiled sadly.

"I know, my darling," he told her, "But you'll be near. And I will use all of the leave passes I've saved by not taking my free days to come and see you as often as I can."

She nodded fiercely, her head bowed.

"Just think," he soothed her quietly, "We can buy a bed that's big enough for us both to fit in."

She smiled sadly.

"We can spend all of my days on of leave there."

His hand stroked the edge of her hair. They had come to a halt and she was standing facing him, close to his chest. The wind blew against them a little.

"People will have to know," she told him quietly, "They will have to be told. Questions will be asked. We can't just tell them I've vanished. Someone will guess."

"I know," he admitted quietly, "I wish I could bear all of the blame of this for you, Grace."

"You mustn't though," she told him quietly, "I won't have your reputation suffer because of me."

"Grace," he murmured, drawing his arm around her shoulder, holding her to him, "You are the thing in my life that I am proudest of. You, our child and my sons. That someone as wonderful as you could look twice at me, let alone love-..." he heard a quiet sob gasp against his chest, and stopped.

"It will be alright in the end," he told her softly, "One day we will tell the world. And proudly."

"Oh, my darling," she whispered against him, her sobs abating, "Sometimes I wonder if anything is going to survive of us at all."

"This is," he told her quietly, placing his hand gently on the slight swell of her stomach, "This little life is. And love. And love."

He kissed the top of her head.

**Please review if you have the time.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Roland," he heard her voice, felt a hand on his shoulder, she was shaking him awake, "Roland, I think something's wrong."

He sat up as quickly as he could.

"What is it?" he asked, "What the matter?"

As his eyes focused a little more he could see her. She looked very pale. She was lying where she always did, and it took him a second to realise that she wasn't sitting up because she couldn't.

"I'm bleeding," she whispered.

She was. He saw it pooling through her nightdress around her waist.

"Oh god," he whispered, getting out of the bed, pulling her fully into it, "Grace, I'll go and get someone, Sister Quayle or-..."

"No!" she grabbed onto his hand, "Don't leave me."

"Grace you need someone who can-..."

"No," she insisted, "There's nothing we can do."

"Grace, you can't know," he told her desperately, tears welling in his eyes, "We have to try."

"I can," she told him, holding on to him as hard as she could, "This has happened before. There's nothing we can do. I need you. Don't leave me."

He put his hand on her forehead, she was perspiring. Pushing her loose hair away from her brow he clasped ahold of her hand, kneeling by the side of his own bed.

"Alright, my darling," he told her quietly, "Just let me get you something for the pain. I'm not going to leave you."

…**...**

It was all all over. The mattress was stained with her blood. In the chair by his bedside, he sat, still clutching her hand.

And then her eyelids fluttered open.

She looked around, blinked several times. Followed the line of her own arm to meet his hand, to meet his eyes. And then she remembered. And she closed her eyes again.

He watched the movement of her rib cage as she took a deep breath.

He had no idea what to say to her, expect how awfully horribly sorry he was that he had put her through this, and he did not have the words to express that.

There was a long, barren silence.

"At least this way no one has to know," she said at last, her voice cracking with undiluted empty disappointment.

"Grace-..." his voice shook.

"At least," she forced the words out, "I can stay with you."

"Yes," he murmured quietly, kissing the back of her hand, "Oh Grace," he whispered, "Before this I would have said that any price would have been worth it to keep you here."

"I know," she replied softly, "I know exactly what you mean."

"After the war," he whispered, "When we're married, we can-..."

"We can't, Roland," she told him, "We both know it. This is my second time."

"Grace, my darling," he managed to utter, tears rolling down his cheeks, "I'm so sorry that I've done this to you."

"It isn't your fault," she whispered, "My body just...- won't. I'm a poor vessel to invest your happiness in."

"You are my happiness," he brushed her forehead gently with his thumb, "And after the war, when we're married-..."

"You still want to marry me?" she asked softly.

"Why wouldn't I?" he enquired incredulously.

"I thought we were-... for the baby. There will always be complications, with your wife."

"I want to marry you, Grace," he told her, "Child or no child. If you will still have me."

"Of course," she murmured gently.

"You have no idea how frightened I was last night," he told her in a low voice, "I thought I was going to lose you."

"You won't lose me," she replied, her eyes opening, her head tilting a little, looking for his.

He squeezed her hand tightly, tears welling in his eyes.

"You should sleep," he told her.

"So should you," she replied, "Don't tell me you have, I don't believe you."

"I am on duty soon," he murmured, "I will cover for you. You need to rest."

"What will you tell them?" she asked softly.

"I'll say that you've been taken ill," he replied, "And that I thought you should sleep indoors so I invited you to stay in my quarters to re-cooperate."

"That will raise a few eyebrows," she told him lightly, then a moment later, "They can't know. Whatever happens. The only good thing that I can take from this is that I can stay with you, and for that they can't know. They mustn't know."

"Of course," he replied, squeezing her hand, then, "Grace, if you won't let one of the nurse's examine you, then I'm going to have to do it. To check that everything is-... normal, under the circumstances."

"I know," she answered, "Can we wait few minutes first."

"Of course." 

There was another silence.

"I love you so much, Grace," he whispered into the back of her hand, pressing it to lips, "I'm so sorry."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	8. Chapter 8

He stayed with her as much as he could while she recovered. One day, he checked in a leave pass, made as if to leave the camp and then slipped back into his office at the last moment, put his pyjamas back on and slipped back to bed with her; holding her the whole day. As she grew stronger the staff knew to check on her less frequently; it was a request she could make fairly naturally with the hospital as busy as it was. He was able to slip and extra mattress and some new blankets out of the stores to replace the damaged ones, and was happy that he was able to wrap her up in soft clean linens. He did everything he could for her.

"Oh, my darling," he whispered one night, getting into bed beside her.

She opened her eyes, she had not been asleep, but she was tired of looking at the same room, unless he was in it.

"Roland," she whispered, "I want to come back to work."

He opened his mouth. He did not want to challenge her, but he needed to check.

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied swiftly, "I need to do this. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't."

"Will you start with a half day?" he asked her.

There was a pause.

"One half day?"

Another pause.

"Alright," he agreed.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes." 

"Then I'll start with a half day," she replied, her arms settling around his back, her head resting on his chest, "I need to feel useful again."

"You must take it gently, my love," he told her quietly, brushing her cheek with his thumb then tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, "I won't have you falling ill. I won't see you like this again. I-..." his voice caught in his throat, his voice seemed to be sticking, "I don't want to lose you, Grace." 

"You won't lose me," she gazed back at him, her eye round and sad, "Oh, Roland," her hand rested on his chest, "You won't ever lose me, I promise you."

He kissed the top of her head.

"I wrote a letter yesterday," he told her after a moment, "In the morning when you were still asleep."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Well, I wrote two," he corrected himself, "To Hetty. And to the solicitor."

"You told her about me?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes," he replied.

"How much?"

"Enough. That I'm in love you. That I know now I was never in love with her, and she never with me."

"Did you tell her about the child?" she asked. "It doesn't matter if you didn't," she told him a moment later when he did not reply, "I'm not sure whether or not I want you to have done."

"No, I didn't," he replied, "The child has nothing to do with her. I won't risk your reputation by putting it in a letter," he told her softly.

She nodded gently.

"I understand," she replied, "Thank you."

He kissed her hair again.

"As soon as I hear back from the solicitors," he told her, "As soon as I can, I will marry you, Grace. If it doesn't trouble you, we can go into the town and ask the Catholic father to do it."

"Could we?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.

"I have no objections to doing so," he told her, "I don't want to ask the hospital chaplain. It would be too... public. And you aren't supposed to be married at all."

"I know," she replied quietly.

There was a brief silence.

"I will go to any church with you," she told him at last, looking up into his eyes, "I will be married to you anywhere that will allow us," she brushed her cheek softly against his chest, "Us together, that is my new sense of... divinity." She heard him draw a harsh breath. "I don't care about anything else."

Gently, bowing his head a little, he kissed her lips.

"I wish I'd met you years ago, Grace," he whispered, "You are the most wonderful woman in the world, I'm so thankful I met you at all. But you would have made my life so much happier."

"We still have years," she reminded him, "When this is over," she smiled, remembering what he had said, "Before then, even."

**end.**

**Please review if you have the time. **


End file.
